HUBERT SPALA

[HUBERT SPALA]

INKTOBER ‘20 #30 - Ominous

Dreadwake is an universal evil. At least, that is the most common agreement across all the civilized kin and folk. Sure, the far northern tribes worship the unstable monstrosities and embrace its mutagenic influence, but they only turn even more savage and their acts – more abhorrent – only proving the point that the influence of the unreal is corrosive to everything it touches. And yet… Where there is a mighty force that cannot be explain, a cult will form, calling the gullible, the scared and the lost like moths to a flame. And so the Cult of the Change emerged, with lunatic priests calling the coming of Dreadwake a salvation upon the ruined realms, a true wave of lasting change, world remade and reshaped in the only freedom that is true to its core – chaos and madness. In most places, in most tribes this believes are strictly forbidden. Further away from pockets of regrowing civilization they might be outright punishable by death. But Wharf Town is unique as always, allowing all faiths to thrive… As long as they keep to the purely spiritual matter. Sermon all they want, have their holidays and rites, but it all has to be orderly and stand in no violation to the city bylaws. And so, the dreaded figure of the tall priesthood in rags and horrible artifacts, multilimbed, asymmetrical and wheezing from their manifold hidden mouth can be seen on the city streets, always met with at best suspicious gazes, at worst outright booing, hissing and disgust. The priests of madness remains utterly unmoved by the hostility of the larger crowds and overall citizenry, keeping mostly to their little pockets of the few faithful, spreading their message to every soul that is willing, be it a stray kin, an inquisitive folk or rats on the sewers.

Inktober 2020 art will become avaliable in fully colored variants in ‘Posterra: Folks of the Wharf’ artbook, including extended lore, two short stories and map of the Wharf Town and surroundings. Stay Tuned!

[HUBERT SPALA]

INKTOBER ‘20 #29 - Shoes

Being a Pottery Golem is a hard living. Sure, folks believe you are strong as your stone cousin and imperishable like the golems made of crystal, but you’re in fact a brittle boy with little big soul that screams silently from your baked clay mouth-slit. It is a clunky existence, slow and careful – sure, your walls might be thick but your insides are hollow. And so it seems that this void inside you always calls to be filled. Who knows how true this adage is, but once thing is certain – Pottery Golems or Potties, as most kin call them, tend to fixate their sole existence on a single item and either become avid collectors of such, to a degree of raising their simple abodes entirely of the objects of their desire… Or to become as merchants, guile and deft due to sheer patience, focus and deliberate dumbness most golems display. In case of a particular Pottie called simply as Knock it was the latter. Who knows from what dark depth and shady deals he manages to plod his way out, but after his lengthy escapades he always return to the city with plethora of shoes, slippers, flip-flops and clods, of most eccentric shapes, sizes and garish colors. He claims them to be artifacts of bygone ages and forgotten civilizations. While most laugh and mock his notions, there must be some truth to it, as some of his wares are made of most incredible and unreal materials, flexible yet durable, stretchy yet unyielding. That is most likely why the citizens of Wharf Town tolerate his tall tales of ancient ruins and glyphs – quality goods are quality goods, no matter from where they stem.

Inktober 2020 art will become avaliable in fully colored variants in ‘Posterra: Folks of the Wharf’ artbook, including extended lore, two short stories and map of the Wharf Town and surroundings. Stay Tuned!

[HUBERT SPALA]

INKTOBER ‘20 #28 - Float

Postal Service is one of the most crucial city service in eyes of the Mayor Whale. Swift delivery of messages and parcels means that the merchants can operate quickly and with fewer errors. Information that passes from guild to guild, from member to member also saves plenty of possible snafus and keeps the order both within and outside the city walls. And his agents would have significantly harder job if they couldn’t intercept crucial mail or deliveries to check on the contents as well! And so, the Wharf Post is well funded and ever growing, and the laws are also very generous when it comes to offering postmen wide protections, making it a desirable position of some repute. With their gleaming caps, sturdy bags and can-do tradition the postmen are a colorful, eclectic yet sturdy and reliable addition to the city picturesque organized chaos. And they never cease to invest and reinvent, hoping to outmatch themselves in swiftness and convenience. Take for example their latest invention catered to the insectoids who work for the office, which can be temporarily hosting a semi-parasitic organism that allows them to, well… To float. Some might consider it a little silly and pointless, and yet avoiding street crowds and carriage traffics proven to be reward well worth of the potential silliness and clumsy swaying of limbs in the air to steer the unruly sack of gases. While the sight of floating postmen is still rare – and the opponents mock the notion, since there are kin and folk that can just fly in the first place – the Post proclaims it a standing idea that will ensure all postmen of proper biological profile will be able to reach for the skies!

Inktober 2020 art will become avaliable in fully colored variants in ‘Posterra: Folks of the Wharf’ artbook, including extended lore, two short stories and map of the Wharf Town and surroundings. Stay Tuned!

[HUBERT SPALA]

INKTOBER ‘20 #27 - Music

Racket is not exactly unique amongst awoken robots, but he is definitely not a commonplace. He was built to be a killer – a mobile, bipedal weapon platform. Once the spark hit him, he didn’t lose his violent tendencies, but he reforged them into something knew, with clarity of purpose and mind that could not defy some loops of logic that infected his newfound intelligence. Guns, he thought, ultimate prove nothing and bring no lasting change. Sure, you can annihilate a village for their wrongdoings, but not only it will rebuild in a few measly centuries but also most likely seethe with desire of vengeance, tightening the survivors bond in a harsh goal. No, the change needs to come from within. From the ground of freedom, and freedom absolute. And so, Racket dismantled his missle pods, dropped his autoguns, got rid of his ammo storage and nanoforge. And found a new outlet for the ire that boiled in his cables – music. Loud music. Obnoxious music. Music that thumps with the beats of living hearts and the pulse of growling binary. It will be his voice, aided by his message, and he will teach all kin and folk of his way. To drop the shackles of rulers, kings and masters. To realize their own power, to raise against the oppression of the privileged. To find new purpose that should, in his view, be universal – the pursue of absolute freedom. For only then, when all are free, the real work can begin and real change can be imprinted around the world. And so, he and his clamor stalks the streets of Wharf Town, waking people up, earning lots of cussin’ and a throng of urchins always eager for some free entertainment.

Inktober 2020 art will become avaliable in fully colored variants in ‘Posterra: Folks of the Wharf’ artbook, including extended lore, two short stories and map of the Wharf Town and surroundings. Stay Tuned!

[HUBERT SPALA]

INKTOBER ‘20 #26 - Hide

Can an existential agoraphobic find themselves wanting to live in a bustling city? Yes. Yes they can.  Meet Fykeon Mahimas, the most elusive of the Haunts. Despite their grim reputation, Haunts aren’t malignant undead that hide in the corners of the darkest places to jump at the unsuspecting prey to suck their souls out. Nothing could be further from the truth. While indeed, Haunts are spirits of the long departed that got bound to the shadows, they are not ravaging spirits of vengeance nor they crave any souls to being with. If anything… they are shy. Bashful even. Their only craving could be to be left alone, but that would be false as well, for most of the Haunts find a new way to focus their eternity on. A passion. They are tangible enough to partake in earthly affairs – that is a part of their dire reputation, that they can spring traps and choke the live out of any miserable prey – and they have that special clarity of mind and purpose that only death can bring. And so, they find a new hobby and usually became ultimate experts in it, for the concerns of mortal living or time itself does not really register with them anymore. And Fykeon is botanist. An avid one, but not for alchemy, nor biotechonology. Just… for the sake of it. He find immense pleasure in cataloguing them, naming them, finding their properties, measuring their lives and cycles. In knowing them. And you might ask, how such a green-thumbed ghost could find itself in the city? Simple. One day he haunted the city glasshouses which were installed for hydroponics and growing food during wintertime. It was decade ago, and now he is a de facto curator of the project with a growing botanical garden that extend more and more in every direction to his quiet, mournful guidance.

Inktober 2020 art will become avaliable in fully colored variants in ‘Posterra: Folks of the Wharf’ artbook, including extended lore, two short stories and map of the Wharf Town and surroundings. Stay Tuned!